


Wings of Vermillion

by CountessBorel



Category: The Yin-Yang Master: Dream of Eternity, 晴雅集 | The Yin-Yang Master (2020)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gratuitous use of italics, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Major Character Injury, Nightmares, No beta we die like Bo Ya's impulse control, Non-Graphic Violence, your honor they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 09:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29624262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountessBorel/pseuds/CountessBorel
Summary: Bo Ya looked to the side, jaw tensing. “What a vexing man. Bothering me? Ichoseto become his spirit guardian, full well thinking I was going to die that day. If anything, I would assume it would stand to reason he would bother me more. He hasn’t reached out once since he left, and the first time I get to see him again, he’s bleeding out on some damn forest floor because he didn’t want tobotherme.”Alternatively: Qing Ming is an idiot and Bo Ya is perhaps far too in love with a man who doesn't know his own self-worth.
Relationships: Qing Ming/Bo Ya, Qingming/Boya
Comments: 17
Kudos: 164





	Wings of Vermillion

**Author's Note:**

> [Come join the Dream of Eternity Discord~](https://discord.gg/pVAUZG4bgr)

“Killing Stone to your left!”

Qing Ming jumped backward, blocking attack after attack with his fan, glancing to the sky as his spirit guardians fought. Killing Stone and Snow Hound were back-to-back in the sky, fighting the several winged beasts there; Qing Ming hadn’t gotten close enough to identify them before he was flung back by his own set of issues, a group of demons ready to end him where he stood.

“Master, call him, call Bo Ya-daren.”

He wouldn’t; he refused. Bo Ya was his spirit guardian in name only. He would not bring Bo Ya to fight a battle he wasn’t prepared to fight, no matter what. He’d made that promise to himself the minute he met back up with him on the bridge so long ago. Bo Ya was his own man, a human still living, someone that did not need to be drug into a battle unwillingly. “We can handle this on our own.”

He heard Killing Stone mutter something, choosing to ignore the slight on his personage. He missed him; it had been months since he had seen Bo Ya. Though they had each given the other their respective listening devices, they had never been used. And if Qing Ming were to be asked if he stared longingly at the arrow still lodged in his home, he would vehemently deny it. Everything had been so _easy_ when Bo Ya was around, now without him; he just felt lonely. For a while, he chalked it up to the fact that he hadn’t had a human companion in such a very long time, and yet, the more he thought about him, the more the realization came to him.

Teasing Bo Ya those long months ago had been more of a thrill than he anticipated. He should have known, should have figured it out the minute he could cast the Protection Spell, yet he didn’t. Or well, perhaps he did, but without knowing Bo Ya’s thoughts on it, he had hidden his true feelings away. Marking it all up to the fact that Bo Ya was his first real friend since his master died, and even long before. No, he would not call upon Bo Ya unless it was dire and, at current, everything was fine.

Swiftly, he flung one of the demons over his shoulder, slamming it into the ground hard enough to daze it for a moment as he worked on the others. He only had to hold out long enough for Killing Stone and Snow Hound to finish with their quarry and head down to him. He was by no means a weak man, quite capable in the form of self-defense, sure he held no weapon apart from his fan, but that had never stopped him before. He’d lost his focus for a moment, fighting three of the demons, not noticing the fourth he had tried to implant into the ground, return. The fourth demon lunged for a kick, connecting squarely to Qing Ming’s back and sending him flying, his body crunching as it made contact with a tree.

He heard Killing Stone swear, yelling something at Snow Hound. Qing Ming coughed as he struggled to rise back to his feet, ignoring the blood pooling in his mouth. He only had a moment’s notice before the demons were back on him, ignoring the pain coursing through his body as he continued to fight them off, silently grateful when Killing Stone landed next to him. The other was yelling something at him, but he could only focus on one thing at a time at the moment. He spun, fan connecting with one of the demons, pushing it back. Killing Stone was making quick work of them, but he wasn’t fast enough. Two demons descended upon Qing Ming at once as he tried to get his body to move more quickly, the pain coursing through it, slowing down most of his movements. Within an instant, he felt a searing pain down his front as claws raked down, another demon kicking him yet again, flinging his body further into the forest, mercifully his body did not connect with another tree this time.

“Master!” Killing Stone finished off the rest of the demons, running to Qing Ming, who still lay on the ground, breathing erratic. “Master, forgive me for what I am about to do.” Qing Ming barely had the consciousness to notice as Killing Stone dug into his belt, pulling out the listening ears that they knew he always had on him. Killing Stone held it in his hand and spoke, eyes glancing back up to Snow Hound for a moment before focusing back on his master. “Bo Ya-daren.”

* * *

For his sake, Bo Ya was sitting when the voice came, nearly startling the cup of tea he had out of his hands. He had not forgotten about the talisman; no, if he were a lesser man, he might even admit to thinking about it _constantly_ , hoping that one day he would hear the smooth timber of the man that he could not get out of his thoughts.

_Bo Ya-daren, please answer_

The voice was hurried, concern evident in his tone. He recognized the voice, one of Qing Ming’s spirit servants, Killing Stone, if he remembered correctly. Which brought a whole slew of questions to his mind, why was Killing Stone using the ears and not Qing Ming? Lifting the cup to his lips, he took a sip before answering, keeping his thoughts at bay for the moment until the situation became clear. “Killing Stone.”

_Please, activate master’s Magic Eyes._

An odd request for sure, but the tone in which he spoke brokered no teasing from the leather-clad man. He pulled the talisman out of his clothes, setting it on the table as he released his qi to activate it, waiting for it to glow gold. On the other end, he heard a harsh cough, one that tore through his emotions in a way he had not expected. “Killing Stone, what is happening?” He set his tea down, trying to keep the anxiety at bay.

_We need you, Master refused to call on you, but the situation has changed. When the portal opens, please come through it._

After that, the ears cut off, leaving Bo Ya sitting there in silence as he stared, waiting for something to happen. A moment later, he noticed the teleportation circle appear, the outline much weaker than it usually was. There was no hesitation as he got up, stepping through the portal, shielding his eyes as his once dim room was replaced with a much brighter forest. It took a moment to readjust, but when he did, he now understood the urgency in Killing Stone’s tone. Qing Ming lay on the forest floor bleeding _heavily_ , Killing Stone was off to the side fighting a group of demons, and further away, he could hear another battle. He hurried to Qing Ming’s side, bending down to check on him. “Qing Ming.”

He watched as the other labored for breath, his eyes cracking open ever so slightly. A whisper on his lips as he brought two fingers to them before reaching towards Bo Ya. “Forgive me.”

Bo Ya just bowed his head, letting Qing Ming’s energy course through him, the Vermillion Bird’s dormant power rising to the surface. He quickly shed his top as he felt the warm heat on his back, letting the vermillion dipped wings release. He took one last look at Qing Ming before he flew off into the sky, following Killing Stone’s request to help Snow Hound. He missed this power, missed the heat that coursed through his veins, the air of freedom that being Qing Ming’s spirit guardian afforded him. It was still strange fighting like this, perhaps always would be. He could _feel_ Qing Ming’s power coursing right alongside that of the Vermillion Bird, an intimate feeling that he would have to dissect later, much later. It had taken a moment for him to realize an addition to his form. A sword much like his own strapped to his side. _The sentimental fool._ Still, he was grateful; with a sword in his hand, he felt much more like himself, ridding the air-born demons of their souls with quick efficiency as he and Snow Hound dove to help Killing Stone with any stragglers. The fight was over quickly, the guardians all returning to surround their master. Bo Ya kneeled, checking Qing Ming’s pressure points; he still lived, but barely. “We need to get him home. Can any of you use the teleport spell?”

Snow Hound shook his head, taking a moment to think before he spoke, his voice quiet. “No, but you should be able to. The details would be too hard to explain at the moment, but you have been to master’s home before, have you not? Just think of where you were, draw on his power, and you should be able to open the portal.”

Bo Ya wanted to question it, but he knew now was not the proper time, so he did as suggested. He thought of that single time they drank together, the odd comfort that it brought him despite the topics spoken of. Digging within himself, he latched onto the golden qi coursing through his veins, eyes snapping open as he saw the portal opening. He quickly scooped Qing Ming into his arms, sparing no moment to ensure the other two followed as he stepped through. He noticed Honey Bug rushing over off to one side, orders leaving his mouth before he had a moment even to think. “Honey Bug, bring hot water, rags, and healing herbs. A tonic as well, one to keep him asleep for a while.” Her eyes grew as she noticed the state of her master but nodded, rushing off to a different area in the compound. Bo Ya glanced to the others, who nodded, letting them lead as they headed towards Qing Ming’s room.

Once there, Bo Ya placed him gently on the bed, hands reaching up to gently untie the others hat, setting it off to the side before carefully divesting him of his robes, ignoring the impropriety of the situation. Honey Bug returned not too long after, placing the requested items on a low table, whispering to the other two before the three of them left, leaving Bo Ya alone to stew in his thoughts as he patched Qing Ming up. He wet a cloth, gently wiping the blood off of the other’s chest, quietly hushing him as pained moans escaped from his lips. He was angry, livid even, that Qing Ming would allow himself to get to this state, that it had to be _Killing Stone_ to call him, to request his aid.

_He refused to call you_

That hurt more than it angered. Why, why did Qing Ming refuse to call him? Was it not apparent when he asked to become his spirit guardian that he would do anything to protect him? When he Bo Ya, Demon Hunter and master of the Jingyun Temple, asked work with that which he hated most. In those few days of meeting Qing Ming, many things had changed, and he thought so had their relationship. Did he have it all wrong, the months he spent waiting, hoping, wishing to hear the other, to see the other, were those spent in vain? Qing Ming moaned again; Bo Ya decided once again to shove those thoughts into the back of his mind to stew over later.

He gently tapped on the other’s pressure points, letting his qi flow throughout him to gauge his wounds’ severity, not regarding the surface wounds; only a few broken ribs plagued the ailing man. A sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back towards the table, grabbing the herbs, mixing them with a touch of water, and grinding them to a paste. With all the gentleness in his body, he slowly spread the mixture across the tears on Qing Ming’s abdomen. The wounds were deep, would take a while to heal, even with how strong Qing Ming was. They would have to watch out for signs of infection or fever; the next couple of days were crucial to Qing Ming’s health. Bo Ya did not have the heart to even think about anything else other than him _healing._ Qing Ming tensed under him as he spread the paste, soft whimpers escaping from his lips. “Qing Ming breath, please.”

“Bo….Ya.”

Bo Ya looked up, eyes meeting the barely open ones of Qing Ming. “You fool of a man. Don’t speak.” He felt more than heard Qing Ming huff out a laugh, the other wincing at the pain it caused him. Bo Ya finished and quickly grabbed the rest of the cloth, wrapping it firmly around Qing Ming’s abdomen before turning back to grab the tonic and bring it to the other’s lips. “Drink.” For once in his life, Qing Ming did as he was told, Bo Ya gently wiping away any drops that slipped free. It only took a moment for the tonic to work, Qing Ming’s breathing evening out. He could slowly feel the power of the Vermillion Bird recede again, involuntarily shivering as the night air struck his still bare chest. He grabbed his top, fixing himself back up before standing, covering Qing Ming with the blankets. He watched him sleep for a few moments. He would never admit to it, but even in his sleep, even in the throes of injury and pain, Qing Ming was still the most beautiful person he had ever run across. He took a moment more before bending down to grab the tray and bucket; they’d need fresh water and linens ready should a fever spike.

* * *

Honey Bug had met him not far from Qing Ming’s room, taking the tray and bucket from him before showing him to his own quarters. He stayed there for a while before wandering, his walk coming to a stop as he came across the place they had drunk wine, what seemed like a lifetime ago. Walking towards the balcony, he rested his hands on it, looking out into the night sky, a gentle breeze ruffling his still downed hair. A glint caught his eye, head-turning to find an arrow, _his_ arrow, still lodged in the support pillar of the building. Willingly or unwillingly, a small smile found its way onto his face— _the sentimental fool._ Soft footsteps interrupted his mind from wandering too far, turning to see Honey Bug yet again, a tray with freshly brewed tea sitting gently atop it. She smiled at him as she set it down on the table, turning to leave. “Honey Bug, wait a moment.”

She turned back to him, hands clasped at her front as she waited for him to speak. “I want to apologize. I realize this is coming far too late and may mean nothing now, but still. I’m sorry for attacking you back then; I realize now the error of my ways.”

She only shook her head, smiling again. “Do not concern yourself with it, Bo Ya-daren. You are a demon hunter and were only following your instincts; I cannot fault you for that. Thank you for the apology still, and thank you for saving our master’s life.”

Bo Ya’s eyes trailed towards where Qing Ming still lay, in a room too far for him to see. “I would not thank me just yet. He is not in the clear.”

“No, perhaps not, but you came. Killing Stone told me what happened; I wish to thank you for that. Master is… Well, as I am sure you are aware, he can be quite bullheaded at times. Despite his intellect, he has been on his own for most of his life, and I think as much as he tries to act aloof and altogether uncaring towards most things, his last aim is to bother. Killing Stone told me that he refused to call on you, but I do not think that any fault of your own. I suspect he just did not want to pull you into something you weren’t already a part of. He didn’t want to bother you.”

Bo Ya looked to the side, jaw tensing. “What a vexing man. Bothering me? I _chose_ to become his spirit guardian, full well thinking I was going to die that day. If anything, I would assume it would stand to reason he would bother me more. He hasn’t reached out once since he left, and the first time I get to see him again, he’s bleeding out on some damn forest floor because he didn’t want to _bother_ me.”

“And that Bo Ya-daren is precisely the reason. I do not pretend to know my master’s mind, but I do know one thing, all of us here have seen it; he misses you more than I think he is willing to admit. We may be our master’s guardians and servants, but he treats us like friends and companions. He is wont to use us unless necessary. You are still alive; you are still flesh and blood with breath in your lung, life in your veins. You have a life to lead outside of the binds of a guardian. He will not pull you from that. Despite his feelings, his pain, and his loneliness, he puts others before him. He puts _you_ before him. You are the reason that he became a true Yin-Yang Master; you are the reason that he was able to complete the protection spell. To him, you are worth more to him than anything. He refuses to call on you because he does not want to see you get hurt; he does not want to see you suffering. I think deep down, he also does not want you to see him hurt, for fear of you thinking him incapable or what have you, I know not, but I think if he had it his way, he would erase all memories of him from your mind, just to keep you safe. I think you almost dying that day scared him; he had just lost his master, the last thing he wanted to do was to lose a friend so soon after.”

Bo Ya scoffed, sitting down to pour himself some tea to try and calm the emotions burning through him. Absolutely ridiculous, Qing Ming was and will forever be the most ridiculous, obtuse man he has ever had the pleasure of knowing. Raising the glass to his lips, he took a sip before looking back up towards Honey Bug. “Thank you for telling me this. I am sorry to keep bothering you, but can you ensure there is a tub of water and clean linen in his room.”

“It is no bother; I will see to it. Oh, and Bo Ya-daren, please, get some rest.” Honey Bug bowed to him before turning on her heel and heading out, leaving Bo Ya once again alone to stew in his thoughts.

After having finished the tea, he followed her advice, heading back to his room to get some rest. A set of elegant black and gold silk sleep robes hung off the side of the bed. _If you had no plans to see me again, why then Qing Ming, do you own a set of robes like this._ That thought lulled him to sleep that night; despite Qing Ming’s lack of communication, he still stocked his home with things for Bo Ya.

* * *

Bo Ya woke with a start, only a few hours having passed since he laid down to rest. Something did not feel right, a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that only seemed to grow. A moment’s thought had him flying out of bed, making his way towards Qing Ming’s room. He slid the doors open harder than appropriate, worry ebbing its way through his veins. Strangled moans flittered across the room; Qing Ming’s breath was heavy and labored. Bo Ya was across the room and sitting on the bed next to him in an instant, hands going quicker than he was able to think as he let his qi travel through the other’s body. His fever was high; the wounds did not seem to be infected at the very least. He turned towards the basin of water Honey Bug had left earlier, soaking a linen piece and dabbing it gently on the others’ face, at the sweat that dripped down, wringing it out before soaking it one more time and letting it rest on the other’s forehead.

Honey Bug must have come in and changed him earlier; a simple thin linen robe pulled loosely around his body. He pulled it away, checking the bandages; they would need to be changed soon; he should have asked her to show him where they kept the supplies, so he wouldn’t have to keep bothering her. He closed the robe, for now, hand coming to rest on Qing Ming’s cheek, thumb gently caressing him.

“You are a fool, Qing Ming.” In the dead of night, with no one but himself in the room, he let himself just stare, let his hand trail gently across Qing Ming’s features, thumb gently swiping over his bottom lip. Loath to admit it as he was, he thought about Qing Ming’s lips more often than strictly necessary, or proper for that matter. The way the man could simply just say his name, and it means something different every single time. The smiles and smirks, the way he rested a cup of wine on his bottom lip while thinking. Qing Ming _kissing_ him senseless, using not words to unravel him, but motions instead. Bo Ya took off the linen for a moment, giving in to his most base desires and kissing him gently on the forehead, moving back ever so slightly as he whispered. “No, I quite think I am the fool. A fool in love.”

He sat there, continuing to rewet the linen until Qing Ming seemed to settle down, the fever had not lowered, but the pained moans ceased, at least for a while. Bo Ya was positive he would not get any more sleep tonight, fearing that he would wake up in a world that no longer had Qing Ming in it if he did. He needed to get more wrappings at the very least. Reluctantly he got up from the bed, heading back out in search of their supplies. He’d been walking around for a while when he ran into Snow Hound, the other bowing to him.

“Bo Ya-daren, you should be resting.”

Bo Ya just shook his head. “Qing Ming’s health is more important than my rest right now; I’ll be fine. Snow Hound, do you mind showing me where you all keep the supplies? It would be helpful in case I need to run and grab something.”

Snow Hound nodded as he started to walk. Snow Hound seemed much more reserved than Killing Stone and much less inclined to speak than Honey Bug; it was a pleasant change; he wasn’t entirely in the mood to talk at the moment anyway. He was quickly shown to the small infirmary they had, shown the supplies’ location and where the kitchens were if he needed anything from there. However, it seemed Honey Bug had a natural talent at bringing anything he might desire the moment he thought about it. He bid Snow Hound farewell, an arm full of dressings as an idea came. He backtracked to his rooms, picking up his dizi before heading back and changing Qing Ming’s dressings. Thankfully the other was still the same as he left him, an occasional whimper escaping him, though, from pain or perhaps a nightmare, Bo Ya didn’t know.

He moved to the low window on the other side of Qing Ming’s bed, sitting on the windowsill as he pulled out his flute, playing the same melody that he used to send off Qing Ming, the song that he had found hard if not nearly impossible to play after their parting. He played for hours, switching from song to song to try and soothe not only himself but perhaps Qing Ming as well. It had been far too long since he was able just to play, to let out his emotions through the songs so ingrained in his life, and it felt _good_.

The sun was rising when Honey Bug nearly drug him by his collar out of the room. Promising that if anything were to happen, she would wake him. The days went on like that, Bo Ya holding silent vigil at night and one of Qing Ming’s spirit servants near dragging him out of the room for rest. He knew that Killing Stone or Snow Hound were never far from his door, ready to push him back if need be. Their concern touched him in a way he never thought possible. He knew Qing Ming was right; at least now he did. Not all demons were horrible and deserved death, and in this compound full of his servants and guardians, Bo Ya could finally come to admit that he was wrong and perhaps felt slightly bad about it.

A week had passed, and Qing Ming had only woken once if you could even call it that. He was delirious the entire time. Bo Ya grew more concerned with each passing day, worry and fear at the forefront of his every waking thought. Qing Ming’s condition wasn’t getting worse; he was healing quite well, in fact, so why, why had he not woken up? The tonic he had given him the first night should have only kept him down for a day at most.

The servants had finally managed to convince him to get some sleep, if only for a few hours, when a gut-wrenching scream tore through the compound. Bo Ya had never sprinted more quickly in his life, had never felt his heart completely drop from his chest. He nearly crashed into the room, throwing himself next to Qing Ming’s bed, trying his best to hold the thrashing man down. If this kept up, he was going to reopen his wounds. Honey Bug, Snow Hound, and Killing Stone appeared mere moments after he had arrived, the two guardians coming to help him. Bo Ya was frightened, not knowing what ailed Qing Ming; he didn’t know how to help. He almost looked helpless as he looked towards Honey Bug, trying to keep his fear to a minimum. “Go, go get another sleeping tonic, something, _anything.”_

He couldn’t keep the panic out of his voice, the worry lacing each word as he struggled to hold Qing Ming down. Honey Bug was gone within a moment, Bo Ya turning his attention back to the man underneath him. “Qing Ming. Please wake up. Qing Ming!” Tears were starting to form at the corners of his eyes, but he wouldn’t cry; he couldn’t, not right now, not in front of the other guardians.

“Bo Ya… Help.”

Bo Ya’s grip tightened on Qing Ming’s arms when he spoke. Qing Ming sounded scared himself, his voice scratchy from disuse. “What is it? Qing Ming, please, what is happening? You have to tell me so I can help you.” Another scream broke free from Qing Ming’s mouth, ripping any last shred of sanity Bo Ya had to shreds. Bo Ya had been reduced to a mess of emotions. Constantly repeating _Qing Ming, Please. Please._ Over and over again, hands coming to frame Qing Ming’s face, not caring for the world who was watching. What seemed like hours later, but honestly only a few minutes, Honey Bug came rushing back in, helping to pour the tonic down Qing Ming’s throat as the other three continued to hold him down. They waited with bated breath, watching until Qing Ming stilled, his breath finally, _finally_ evening out. Bo Ya released him with a pained sigh, collapsing off the side of the bed, finding his perch on the floor, leaning against the base of the bed. He pulled his left leg up, resting his elbow on his knee as his head sunk into his hand, his other leg stretched out in front of him.

“What was that?”

Bo Ya shook his head, closing his eyes, too tired to even think about it. He heard what sounded like Honey Bug rushing out of the room before returning with a tinkling tray. “Bo Ya-daren.” Bo Ya looked up, watching as Honey Bug bent down to hand him a cup. “This will help calm you down.”

Bo Ya nodded and took the cup, eyes closing again as he took the sip, keeping the cup in his hands, too exhausted both mentally and physically to even think about reaching towards the table. “I am going to take a guess and say that Qing Ming has been hurt before, surely similar to this, but nothing like what just happened has happened, which is why you are all as startled as I am.”

Snow Hound, unsurprisingly, was the one to speak; he had been with Qing Ming’s master before and had been around him the longest. “No, I’m afraid not. He’s been hurt more, and nothing like this has ever happened. I never in my wildest imaginations would have thought that he could scream like that. He’s healing quite well, though; I can’t imagine what brought this on.”

Bo Ya kept silent as he finally moved, placing the cup on the table, nodding his thanks to Honey Bug before going back to Qing Ming, checking his wounds. Small patches of blood-stained the fabric but fortunately, nothing had reopened significantly enough to worry about. “At the very least, he didn’t reopen his wounds. I’m going to stay here and try to figure out what happened; it might be best if you three went around and assured everyone else that things are fine.”

Killing Stone stepped around the bed, putting his hand on Bo Ya’s shoulder. “You need to rest.”

Bo Ya, for his part, managed not to throw Killing Stone off, he was exhausted and scared, and his emotions were at war with each other. He still bit out his response, it coming out much harsher than he intended. “I will not. Something is going on, and I need to find out what it is. I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

The three of them just looked at each other for a moment before finally nodding and exiting the room. Bo Ya resituated himself, sitting on the floor next to the bed as he leaned on it, allowing his hand to rest on Qing Ming’s wrist, letting his qi flow through the pressure point there. He closed his eyes, his other hand coming up to his forehead to open his third eye. He scanned Qing Ming’s body, eye-stopping as it took in the darker edges around the largest wound. Watching the black smoke as it started to trail towards the center of his body. Opening his eyes shot up off the floor, running to his room to grab his dagger, stopping Honey Bug, making her swear that whatever were to happen, whatever sounds might be coming from Qing Ming’s room, no one was to go in. The severity in his voice had her nodding without any questions before he dashed back into Qing Ming’s room, settling himself on the edge of the bed as he opened his robe, unwrapping the bandages.

“Qing Ming, forgive me.”

Bo Ya lowered his dagger, holding him down as he sliced into the wound, teeth clenching as Qing Ming screamed in agony, at least this time, Bo Ya knew that it was his fault. Once the wound was reopened, he put two fingers over the gash, pulling with his qi to try and dig out the festering traces of the demon that did this. He latched on and pulled, the traces fighting back. He clenched his teeth as he pulled harder, trying his hardest to ignore the pained noises coming from Qing Ming; this was for him, this was to _save_ him. He didn’t notice the darkness creeping in his vision until it was too late.

* * *

_Bo Ya._

Bo Ya opened his eyes, not that it did much good, a pitch blackness surrounding him. He felt around, trying to find something to signify where he was.

_Bo Ya!_

Bo Ya’s heart seized at the voice; it was Qing Ming; he sounded so worried, so concerned. “Qing Ming, where are you?”

_Don’t leave me, Bo Ya, please._

Startling whiteness exploded around him as his surroundings came back into view. It was Imperial City, the day of the attack. Down the road, he could see Qing Ming kneeling, clutching something, his head bowed. He ran towards Qing Ming to protect him from whatever made his voice sound so distressed, so completely broken.

_Bo Ya, please, I can’t lose you too._

“Qing Ming!” Bo Ya slammed into a barrier just inches away from Qing Ming; he pounded on it, trying to get the other’s attention. What was this? What was going on? Looking towards the other, he finally noticed what he was holding. Him, Qing Ming, was holding his body. Looking to the right, he saw the Vermillion Bird statue still there; the city was quiet. Was this one of Qing Ming’s nightmares? Whatever it was, Bo Ya was certain of one thing; he never wanted to see Qing Ming cry like this again. “Qing Ming, I’m here. I’m right here.”

He watched as Qing Ming picked up his wrist, the wrist he cut to free the Vermillion Bird, fingers placed upon it, channeling qi into him, trying to close the wound, to wake him back up. Everything started to make sense to him with startling clarity; in this version of events, Bo Ya failed to revive the Vermillion Bird. Dying on top of that statue, the snake being released, and yet it seemed Qing Ming’s only concern was him, that he wouldn’t wake again.

_You said you would be my Spirit Guardian. Don’t do this to me, Bo Ya, please._

Bo Ya pounded on the barrier, trying to get Qing Ming’s attention, trying to make him see that he was right here, that he was okay. Tears started to form in his eyes as he slid down to his knees, fists aching at the abuse they took from the barrier. “Qing Ming, I didn’t leave you. I became your Spirit Guardian, we saved the city, and I even got my life back. Qing Ming, look at me.” Bo Ya didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how he could get through to him, get through this barrier.

_Bo Ya, I love you._

Bo Ya froze. Did he hear that right? Looking at the other, it only seemed to be the case. The way Qing Ming was bowed over his body, the motions of his body that just screamed that he was sobbing, or something akin to that. Bo Ya pounded on the wall again; he hated this, hated seeing Qing Ming like this. He was supposed to be happy, smiling, joking around constantly. He was in agony, being mere inches away from Qing Ming but unable to do anything.

_Bo Ya, I’m sorry._

* * *

Bo Ya swore as he was torn out of that dream-like state without any warning, gasping for breath. He scrambled off the floor, back up to the bed where Qing Ming still lay, opening his third eye. A sigh of relief escaped him as he noticed the darkness gone, entirely removed from Qing Ming’s body. Whatever just happened must have been the aftereffects. He quickly lowered his fingers to the other’s abdomen as he used his qi to stop the bleeding and close the wound. Wetting another linen to clean up the blood before bandaging him back up.

He stood, staggering slightly as his exhaustion and the amount of qi he’d been using the past couple of days caught up with him. Qing Ming would not be too pleased with him when he woke up, but damn it all to hell if he didn’t care. _I’ll sleep when I’m dead._ Perhaps a frightful sentence to say, but one he truly believed in at the time. He needed food, tea, something to keep his energy up, though he knew full well Honey Bug and the two other guardians would try to force him to sleep. Opening up the sliding door, he leaned on it for support, slightly too ashamed to admit just precisely how tired he was. “Honey Bug.”

Bo Ya watched as a butterfly from a nearby bush flew off and transformed into Honey Bug. He just looked at her, the young girl looking off to the side. “I suppose outside is not inside.” Honey Bug just giggled, bringing a slight smile to Bo Ya’s face. “Is it possible to get food? I would go to the kitchens myself, but if I am honest, I’m barely standing as is.”

“Of course, Bo Ya-daren. Any requests?”

“No, bring whatever is easiest.” She nodded and walked off, Bo Ya going back to sit down at the low table near the bed. Thankfully, Qing Ming’s breathing was better, lighter than he had heard it in days. It was a comfort he didn’t realize he needed. Honey Bug brought the food, a simple congee with another pot of the tea she had brought him earlier. He watched as she dawdled in the doorway, rolling his eyes, however undignified that might have been. “I will sleep after this.”

* * *

He woke with a softness in his hand he was not used to. Opening his eyes, it took a moment to adjust, to sort out everything. The last thing he remembered was Killing Stone taking the listening ear out of his belts, nothing much after that. Moving his hand, he noticed a weight to them, a weight not entirely his own. Turning his head, his eyes softened at the sight. Bo Ya sat on the floor, arm on the bed with his head resting on top, sleeping with a blanket draped over his shoulder. The weight in his hand was Bo Ya’s own, a weight he wished to keep for the rest of eternity. In the silence, he stole the moment, eyes looking him over; he’d never had the fortune to see him asleep. His features were soft, not holding any of the rigidness he usually wore during the day. His clothes were also different, a smug approval when he realized it was the set he had secretly purchased in case he did get to meet Bo Ya again, in case he deigned to stay the night. Qing Ming should have known that he couldn’t hide anything from Honey Bug; she was far more intelligent than anyone gave her credit for.

As much as he wanted to continue to let the other sleep there, he knew he should wake him; it couldn’t have been comfortable. Squeezing the hand that held his gently, he called out to him, voice soft so not to frighten him, if that were even possible. “Bo Ya.” Qing Ming watched as the other came back to awareness, eyelids fluttering open. It only took a moment for Bo Ya to realize that it was Qing Ming that woke him, that he was awake. He stood quickly, far too quickly, if Qing Ming were to note the wavering in his posture and the hand on the bed to support him. Qing Ming watched as Bo Ya sat ever so carefully on the edge of the bed, noticing that the other had not once let go of his hand.

“Qing Ming. How do you feel?”

Qing Ming melted under the soft smile that was placed delicately on Bo Ya’s face. That smile alone could cure a thousand wounds. “Tired, sore, happy.”

Bo Ya narrowed his eyes; Qing Ming was insane. “Happy?” Qing Ming smirked, tugging on the hand that still held his, watching as the realization came to Bo Ya, who far too quickly removed his hand, ears tinting a stunning shade of red.

“Shameless.” Bo Ya busied his hands by gently removing the covers and pulling back Qing Ming’s robe, checking to ensure the bandages still held, that no bleeding was still occurring.

“Oh, I’m the shameless one?” Qing Ming laughed at Bo Ya’s stuttering, the blanket thrown unceremoniously over his body. “I’m only joking, Bo Ya. Here, help me sit up.” Bo Ya leaned forward without hesitation, one arm supporting Qing Ming’s back as the other grasped at his arm to help him sit. Qing Ming huffed a few breaths at the exertion, being bedridden for however long he had always taken a toll on him, though he supposed the soreness in his abdomen could also account for something. “How long have I been out?”

“Eight days. Everyone has been worried sick about you. You gave us quite a fright last night. Some of the demon’s traces managed to stick to you.”

Qing Ming reached out and took Bo Ya’s hand, the other clenching his jaw as he looked away. “Bo Ya, thank you.”

This was the conversation that Bo Ya was loathed to have but knew they needed to. He turned to look back at Qing Ming, a frown set firmly on his face. “Thank you? Thank you for saving you despite you refusing to call on me? Killing Stone had to do it instead, and you were nearly _dead._ Qing Ming, do you have any idea how foolish that was? I was torn from drinking tea into a forest to watch you nearly bleed to death on the ground. Why didn’t you call on me?” Honey Bug’s words from earlier were likely accurate, but he needed to hear it from the man himself. He needed to hear Qing Ming say that it wasn’t because he didn’t trust him.

Qing Ming’s smile wavered as he looked towards Bo Ya, the other angry, with good reason. “Because I am a fool Bo Ya, because I think I know my limits when it comes to you, but clearly I don’t. I guess the easiest way to describe it is that I didn’t want to pull you from your life, your human life.”

Bo Ya shook his head, his other hand dropping to rest on the hand Qing Ming held his other one with. “And the not easy way?”

Qing Ming sighed, leaning back against the wood. “Because you are _alive,_ Bo Ya. Because unlike the rest of my guardians and servants, you still have breath in you. I cannot take that away from you; I cannot be the reason that you might not see tomorrow. You are a master at your temple; you have duties and dreams to accomplish. You are brilliant, and this world would feel the loss without you. If I called on you, if you became the Vermillion Bird to protect _me,_ you would be dying by my hand, I simply could not have that. I refuse Bo Ya, not because of your capabilities, never because of that. You are the strongest among my guardians.”

Bo Ya just looked at Qing Ming, processing his words. _You would be dying by my hand._ If Bo Ya were to die as the Vermillion Bird, it would be the most tremendous honor of his life, dying to protect Qing Ming; he’d already tried to do it before, why not try again. “You really are a fool, Qing Ming. You don’t call on me because you don’t want me to die; it’s going to happen one way or another. My occupation doesn’t have me sitting at home picking daises from a field, you know. I do not think you understand what you have done to me, how completely you have turned my world upside down. For days I have been living side by side with demons, the very same things I swore to defeat. I offered to become your spirit guardian to _protect_ you, Qing Ming. I thought there might be a possibility that I would not make it out of there alive; the greatest honor I could think of would be to become that which could protect you. I’d only known you for days, that is never enough time to become life-bound to someone, and yet you made me _want_ to. I will always do what I can to keep you safe; I never want to be called by Killing Stone, Snow Hound, or even Honey Bug because you refused. I want you to call me, of your own free will; I want to protect you because you want me to protect you.”

A noise at the door had them both looking, Bo Ya going to remove his hands, but Qing Ming gripping harder. “Not now, Honey Bug.” They waited until the sound of footsteps quieted before either one of them spoke. “I don’t know if I can, Bo Ya.”

“Qing Ming.”

The way Bo Ya spoke his name had him looking into his eyes in moments. His voice was soft, with a barely-there hint of something else, something that Qing Ming desperately wishes he could call forth.

“Your nightmares, is that why?”

“I do not…”

Bo Ya cut him off, voice still soft but firm. “Do not lie to me. When I was trying to rid you of the demon traces, I was pulled into what I assume was one of your nightmares. I know you’ve had them.”

Bo Ya had never seen the expression that came across Qing Ming’s face, but he wished never to see it again. Agony, fear, hate, worry. A mixture that made Bo Ya’s gut coil in guilt for even bringing up the topic.

“Which one?”

Bo Ya paused, looking down at their hands, nearly afraid of what Qing Ming’s reaction was going to be. “Imperial City. I did not manage to awaken the Vermillion Bird.”

Qing Ming sucked in a breath, knuckles going white with how hard he gripped Bo Ya’s hand, the other not even caring. “How much?”

“Qing Ming.” Bo Ya’s impulse control had flown out the window the moment he ran into Qing Ming’s room when the screaming first started; it seemed that it had not yet made its trip back. Lifting the hand sat atop their own, he leaned forward ever so slightly, cupping Qing Ming’s face for the second time that week. He gently nudged Qing Ming’s face, trying to get him to look up. He’d never seen him like this; Qing Ming was always the one to maintain strict eye contact. “Talk to me, please.”

Like a petulant child, Qing Ming did the most composed thing and huffed out a breath, eyes finally looking up to meet Bo Ya’s. “Yes, Bo Ya, yes, it’s because of my nightmares, that specific one more than any of the others. I cannot bear to lose you; as long as you live in this world, then I am safe, my heart can stay right where it belongs in my chest. Even if I were never to see you again, even if I were to only hear of your deeds through tales and songs at the least, I would know you were alive. As much as I’ve turned your world upside down, you have done the same to mine. That nightmare feels so real every time I have it; it is more constant than the others. I wake up so fearful that it was true that not only did I lose Master, I lost Mad Painter, and then you. I do not know how to control those emotions; I will find myself in the spot where we had wine, where the arrow is still lodged in the pillar because there, there was where it all started to come to a head. At the time, I thought that perhaps it was just friendship; it had been so long since I’d made a real friend in the first place, I had forgotten what it was even like. But then I started having that nightmare. Night after night, I watched you slipped off that damnable statue as I would hold your dead body, begging for you to wake. I could do nothing; I couldn’t save you. When we met on the bridge again after the events, I promised myself never to call you to battle. For a while, I thought about it, thought about just calling you because I wanted nothing more than to tease you again, to see you get riled up over any number of things I do. But those nightmares are the real reason that I never wanted to call you. I do not want to be the reason that you die, as you are now, a half-human half-spirit guardian. I do not even know if I would get a body to hold or if you would perish the same as all the others in a flash of golden light. Bo Ya, you have to understand why I did not call on you, why I refuse to.”

Bo Ya shook his head, thumb going to brush the stray tear that fell from Qing Ming’s eyes. “You are a shameless, bullheaded fool. How do you think I would feel if I found out that you perished because you refused to call on me, you refused to call upon the contract that I _willingly_ signed? You stupid fool. It would destroy me. When I came to the forest and saw you lying there bloody and barely breathing, I did not know what to think. A million emotions ran through me, most I had never felt before because I had no one to feel them about. You called upon me anyways, in a state of delirium or through your own power, I do not rightfully know, but there was no way I was going to die, not when I have you to protect. You have become my reason for living just as much as I have become yours. This has never been a one-way street. From the moment I met you, you frustrated and confused and fascinated me. I never had in my life met someone so shameless and yet so gentle at the same time. As much as I thought I hated you, I was also so frightfully attracted to you for some reason. Your pull was too strong for me to ignore, your sweet words and gentle smiles like honey in the bitter tea that my life had become. Qing Ming, I want to protect you; with my entire being and soul, I want to protect you, so please let me. I am your friend, your confidant, your guardian; let me protect you.”

The look that Qing Ming gave him set Bo Ya’s body ablaze. “Call on me.”

“What?”

Bo Ya had to stifle a grin at the absolutely baffling face Qing Ming was making. Adorable, Bo Ya never thought he would think that about anyone, but Qing Ming was absolutely and utterly adorable. “Call on me, call the power of the Vermillion Bird.”

“Bo Ya, what do you want to do?”

Bo Ya pulled his hand away from Qing Ming’s face, grabbing his left hand and bringing it close to his face. “It’s not like you to ask questions, Qing Ming.”

Qing Ming just shook his head slightly before giving in, bringing his hand to his mouth to silently mouth a few words before lightly touching Bo Ya’s forehead, his sigil glowing between Bo Ya’s brows. Qing Ming was just shameless enough to admit that his mouth did dry as he watched Bo Ya stand, shedding the loose outer robe he wore, his muscles ever so exquisite rippling under his movements. There was something about Bo Ya’s spirit guardian form that made Qing Ming go feral; despite having only have seen it once, he dreamt about it enough to act as though Bo Ya lived in this appearance every single day. He watched as pitch-black wings unfurled from his back, the vermillion on the ends glowing like fire gently licking the feathers. His eyes trailed down his chest, lazily tracing the black marks snaking their way from underneath his trousers; he wanted so terribly to reach out and trace them. He’d admired this form in his dreams, but seeing it again in real life up close sent fire through him. Finally, his eyes trailed back up to Bo Ya’s face, a look not unlike his shown in the other’s eyes.

Bo Ya walked closer to him, eyes never once leaving his face, voice soft with a hint of _something_ else that Qing Ming wanted to pull on, to bring to the surface. “Shameless.” Bo Ya bent down without much warning, sliding one arm behind Qing Ming’s back as the other slid under his knees as he hauled him up, bringing him close to his chest. Bo Ya had to stifle a laugh at the undignified noise that came from Qing Ming, arms tightening to as he walked towards the door, opening it with his foot. “Hold on. Unless you’d like to fall.”

There wasn’t much warning as Bo Ya flapped his wings, lifting off the ground and soaring into the sky, letting the power of the Vermillion Bird wash through his veins again as he held Qing Ming. He glided for a while, ignoring how hard his heart was beating at the thought of Qing Ming against his chest, his too _bare_ chest. Propriety really liked to show its face at the most inopportune of times. He stopped after a while, wings beating gently to keep them in the air, looking at the expanse of water below, Qing Ming’s compound just twinkle in the distance.

“This is what you gave me, Qing Ming. You have given me freedom as I have never known before. The Vermillion Bird runs through my veins to my very core, but right next to it is you, your qi; your power flows through me just as much as my own. Without you, this would never be possible. It is exhilarating, a feeling I never thought I’d get to experience in my lifetime. Yes, I love being human; I love my demon hunting through the Imperial city and beyond, but Qing Ming recently, I’ve grown to love something else, probably just a bit more. I just need you to understand where I am coming from. Alternatively, you can deny me my right to protect you, and I just drop you.”

Qing Ming startled at the shit-eating grin that spread across Bo Ya’s face. Certainly, the first time he’d seen that, and gods willing, it wouldn’t be the last. Releasing his hold on Bo Ya, certain the other could hold him just fine, he brought his hand to the other’s face, thumb tracing the black line on his chin with the most feather-light of touches, thumb catching gently on his lower lip, tugging. “Bo Ya.” Qing Ming’s voice was breathless. His body had been alight the moment Bo Ya held him close, and it only continued to grow. The moon giving him the air of an ethereal, and Qing Ming was slowly going insane. Closing his hand gently around Bo Ya’s chin, tugging ever so lightly, the other man needing nothing more, their lips met, and he was set ablaze. He circled his hands around Bo Ya’s neck, pulling him closer, their kiss desperate, the both of them trying to explain things that they had yet to figure out how to speak with words.

Qing Ming trailed his hand down, brushing it against where wing met skin and Bo Ya _keened._ An absolutely _delightful_ find, he smirked into the kiss as he pressed a little harder, Bo Ya swallowing another moan as he pulled away, eyes near liquid, the grip on Qing Ming near painful. “I will drop you, you shameless man.”

Qing Ming’s smile was innocent, like he hadn’t found the most exciting thing to date, and pulled Bo Ya back down for a kiss. “I know not what you mean, _darling._ ” Bo Ya growled, biting Qing Ming’s bottom lip, eliciting a moan from him. If Qing Ming wanted a war, a war he would get. They stayed like that for a while longer before the two of them separated, foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breaths. “I’ll make you a deal, Bo Ya. Keep kissing me like that, and I promise to call on you.”

Bo Ya’s grip loosened, and Qing Ming wasn’t above the squeal that he let out, arms gripping tightly around his neck. “I would suggest, next time you decide to tease me, make sure I’m not the one keeping you from meeting your end.” Qing Ming just chuckled and leaned his head on Bo Ya’s shoulder, watching as Bo Ya flared his wings and returned them to his room. He muttered a few words, releasing the contract as he tossed Bo Ya his robe, sitting down at the table.

“Bo Ya forgive me for my selfishness. I wanted to protect you but ended up hurting you anyways. I cannot promise every time, but I will try. I never want that dream to come true.”

Bo Ya finished redressing and sat across from him, eyes tracing the grainline in the table. “I know Qing Ming, understand I am still upset with you, but I can at least understand why you did it. At least next time, perhaps call me with the ears prior to something dire occurring, even if it turns out fine. I would rather have a little warning than none at all.”

“I can agree to that. Though I think we shouldn’t go so long without contact.”

Bo Ya’s just stared at him, shaking his head. “I fear I will regret giving you the ears soon. If they disappear in the middle of the night, it will be your own fault.” Qing Ming’s laugh had Bo Ya’s heart soaring; there was a while where he thought he wasn’t ever going to hear that again. Sure, he was still upset with Qing Ming, still upset at the events that occurred to bring him here, to bring them together as he assumed they were now, but perhaps it wasn’t all so bad. “Oh, Qing Ming?”

“Hm?”

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Lads, forgive any inaccuracies and inconsistencies. 
> 
> I had been mulling over how I wanted Qing Ming to call Bo Ya's spirit half for a while, finally deciding on him needing to I guess _renew_ the contract. I decided that Bo Ya and the Vermillion Bird merged after the events in the move and so he's not able to just call upon him like he can his other Spirit Guardians. 
> 
> Qing Ming horny and feral for Bo Ya's Spirit Guardian form is a mood, just saying. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated and keep me thriving. Thank you so much for reading!!!!!!!!
> 
> Please come yell at me on Twitter about this movie, I only know one other person who is as obsessed with it as I am. I need more fellows. 
> 
> [Twitter: CountessBorel](https://twitter.com/CountessBorel)


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